


Over the Rainbow

by captainangua



Series: The Road [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alpha Castiel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Human, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Good Parent Castiel, Good Parent Dean, Growing Old, Growing Old Together, Impala Sex, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Menopause, Old Married Couple, Omega Dean, Omega Dean Winchester, POV Castiel, POV Dean, Parent Castiel, Parent Dean, Parent Sam, Parent-Child Relationship, Porn With Plot, Sex in the Impala, Theatre, Timestamp, Wizard of Oz References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:17:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3934819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainangua/pseuds/captainangua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean likes to think he's pretty chill about the whole getting older gig.</p><p>But the menopause fucking sucks - and the whole not knowing when his last heat's gonna hit?</p><p>Yeah, that's the worst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over the Rainbow

**Author's Note:**

> So I really really REALLY should be studying, but hey, it's been like a year since I originally started this, and I always meant to revisit... so, I hope people like the extra thing? Excuse, as usual, the very poor editing...

Dean had never been much of a theatre-goer.

Hell, he could count the number of times he’d even ever _entered_ a theatre on one hand, easily. He was pretty sure his Mom had taken him to see some kid’s show when he was little, and then there’d been that school production of Sam’s, the _one_ time that the kid hadn’t been stuck in backstage work - and last year Cas had dragged them off to this musical Emma had wanted to see for her birthday, which Dean had tried his hardest to pretend he hadn’t enjoyed. So that would make this his fourth time.

And he was almost buckled over with nerves. As he took another steadying breath he realised that his mate was probably noticing all this, as Cas took his hand and gave him one of those gently mocking smiles. “She’ll be fine, Dean. You know that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grunted, and rolled his eyes, knowing as he did that no act he could put on was going to be able to mask the smell of fear coming off of him. His pup was more nervous up there somewhere behind that stage curtain than he’d ever known her to be – so yeah, of course he was worried. But then, Emma had always been kinda fearless as a pup, and now even her entry into the awkward teenage phase hadn’t seemed to have dented that spirit much, so seeing her almost in tears at the thought of this show she’d been so damn excited about had shocked him more than anything else.

“I just… I don’t wanna mess this up,” she’d admitted to him that morning as he drove her in for the dress rehearsal. “Everybody’s _depending_ on me for this.”

“C’mon now, you’re not telling me that you don’t love being Miss Centre of Attention anymore? Because I don’t know if I could take that line seriously…”

Emma had rolled her eyes at him, in a way that was so perfectly _Cas_ that Dean had only just been able to keep himself from laughing at her. They did that more and more, both Emma and her little sister, Meg (her Aunt had won a bet not long after Dean had got pregnant – he figured they could’ve had worse luck), as they grew – start acting like their parents without even realising it. But though it was amusing when one of them took something from Cas, it was damned terrifying when Meg started repeating one of Dean’s choicest banned-in-the-house phrases under her breath, or Emma wriggled her way around apologies in the same way he’d used to (or, y’know, still did).

“I still wanna do it, Dad. I just… if Krissy messes up then nobody’ll know. If _I_ mess up, then the whole thing falls apart and everyone’ll hate it.”

Emma’s cousin, Krissy, had taken her father’s traditional role in the backstage department of the school show. Sam was stupidly proud. The dork.

“C’mon, Em, how important _is_ Dorothy in _the Wizard of Oz_ anyway? Everyone’ll be too distracted with Krissy’s costuming work to notice if you miss a note or two.”

Parenting alarms started ringing off frantically in his head as he realised from his daughter’s face that this line of argument really wasn’t what she was wanting to hear.

“…Not that you’re gonna. C’mon kid, you’ll do awesome – you _know_ that. Haven’t you been practising for months now?” He got a begrudging nod out of her over that one, and, feeling encouraged, he stuck with his theme. “I’ve _heard_ you. Still no idea where you got that voice of yours from, considering neither of your Dads have ever been able to hold a tune – but you’ve definitely got it. And it’s better than Stevie Nix’s ever was, and it’s _ten_ times better than Joan Jett. You’re not gonna mess the show up – you’re gonna make everybody in this thing look better.”

She still wasn’t looking up – typical fifteen year old kid – but he had drawn out a smile from her now. “ _But_ even if you do manage do beat the odds and mess up anyway… you know that won’t matter to us, right? Doesn’t matter if you turn into some sort of donkey-girl on stage and forget all your lines and start braying at everyone – y’know we’re still gonna be smug and proud that you even got out on that stage. We think you’re amazing whatever you do.”

“Thanks – I guess.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Seriously, where did you learn how to do motivation? I _knew_ I shoulda talked to Alpha Dad…”

“Well I know you’re lying. I’m awesome, and I spawned awesome pups.”

“Huh.” She shook her head and lay back in her seat at that, and until they rounded into the school car park, neither of them said anything. Then words just seemed to rush out of her after he stopped the car. “I just… I don’t need people to find another reason to think I’m weird. I’m already so late with the whole presenting thing, and I’m thinking now that maybe putting myself out there with this show wasn’t such a great plan after all.”

So she had noticed. Of course she’d noticed, Dean thought irritably at himself. Fifteen really was getting kinda late. Admittedly he’d also been quite a late bloomer on that front, but usually by the time they reached this age, it was probably spelling alpha. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “Are you kidding me? That’s gonna happen whenever it happens. Don’t you dare put anything on hold waiting till you meet some sort of societal idea about where you’re meant to be already. Just… don’t waste your time like that. And besides, it probably means you’re packed with less of those hormones that make it difficult for kids your age to function, never mind act. So you get out there tonight, and I know you’ll kill it. And fuck what anyone else thinks, so long as you’re proud of yourself, you’re good.” He took a deep breath in and aimed a warning finger at her. “Now don’t tell your other Dad you heard me saying that.”

Emma blinked at him a few times. “Saying what?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, get in there already, you’re gonna be late.”

His daughter picked her bag out of the back seat and moved to open the door before she paused. “Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s with the smell today? I don’t know if I wanna ask… but are you off your supp’s?”

Dean fought down a sigh. She was noticing a whole lot today that had been on his mind for a while. When did they start growing up and getting so observant? “Nice catch there, Sherlock. Yeah, your Dad’s getting old – reaching menopause means a whole lot of off-symptoms for omegas on suppressants, so I’ve given them up. Saves on the headaches.” But it wasn’t helping with the mood swings, or the weird slick rushes or the promise of a last at-any-moment heat before his reproductive system gave up for good on him.

But like she said, she probably didn’t want to hear about any of that.

“…Right. But you’re not even old – I mean, _that_ old.”

“Well, apparently my body thinks I am. Which is, y’know, flattering. So like I say, quit being in such a hurry to grow up. Your body’s just gonna decide that you’re old and infirm before you know it, kid.”

Emma punched him lightly on the car as she got out of the car. “Told you already. You’re not _th_ at old. You’re like, old enough to be needing pop-culture help, not a pacemaker.”

“Thanks,” Dean got in sarcastically before she slammed the car door like he’d told her not to a hundred billion times. The car that she’d started learning to drive in recently. The same car she’d probably been conceived in.

Ok, so maybe he wasn’t all that old, but he sure was starting to feel it.

And yeah, mood swings aside, feeling old like this? Not fun. Even mated to Cas, he’d never really looked forward to his heats – they were too unpredictable and incapacitating to have hanging around as a possibility in everyday life, so, like his daughter had noted, he’d almost never been off suppressants since he’d had the chance to be on them. But now he knew that this heat coming was, in all likelihood, going to be his last one… it was weird, thinking about it. He felt like he hadn’t used the ones he’d had properly – and sure, it wasn’t like he hadn’t always enjoyed awesome sex with Cas without them, but knowing he _couldn’t_ have another heat was like… reaching an age where you stopped being sexy anymore. Where the whole point had kinda gone out of his biology.

He hadn’t even bothered bringing it up much with Cas – he knew Cas would tell him he was being an idiot about the whole thing, that he was always gonna think he was sexy or some shit. But Dean kinda wanted to avoid hearing his mate have to say something like that. Because Cas was a sap, and he’d say the same damn thing by rote whether he was telling the truth or not.

And if he was gonna have to lie about it, Dean didn’t want to know.

“Can I get an ice-cream in the break, Dad?”

“You had one after dinner,” Dean reminded his daughter, as he laid back in his seat and half-closed his eyes. Were school theatres always this warm? He felt like he was gonna melt.

“Yes,” Cas told her at the same time, and shrugged, on the spot, as Dean eyed him. “It _is_ a special occasion.”

Dean gave in easily enough. With the heat of the room he was starting to get why something with ‘ice’ in the name might soon become necessary. “Fine, fine. Just don’t blame me when you need another filling, Miss Sweet Teeth.”

Meg flashed him a grin at that, showing off her frustratingly white set of chompers. Dean rolled his eyes again, but mused that, as usual, her smugness was always worth it to see that smile. She’d always been the more serious of his two pups – or, the more quiet at least. She was more like Cas, really. Seemed more happy to act the wallflower, but then always managed to act the troublemaker instead. He still remembered the time when Emma had realised that with Meg’s combination of Dean’s eyes and Cas’ dark hair, she would have been a good fit for any genderbent casting of the boy who lived. She’d meant it as a taunt, but Meg had taken it in her stride – and stolen her sister’s glasses off of her face to test the theory, before asking solemnly if that would make Emma Dudley.

That one had been a bundle of laughs to deal with. And Dean had thought things had got difficult with him and Sam… turned out, brothers had nothing on sisters.

But some things stayed the same. For all her occasional vows of eternal hatred on her kid sister, Dean never doubted that Emma would never let anything happen to Meg. She’d taught her how to swim, she’d tried teaching her to read – hell, she’d given her the sex talk before Dean had even thought of going there.

Yeah. He had good kids.

“Hey, I think it’s starting,” said the voice on Dean’s left as the lights started to dim, and for the hundredth time that night, Dean had to remind himself that it wasn’t Sam talking, but his freakishly tall kid. But though he certainly looked and sounded like his Dad, Davey was definitely his own man. He’d decided to postpone the idea of college to see how far his rock band could get. Sammy would never have done anything that cool, and Dean loved to see the perfect mix of pride and confusion on his brother’s face whenever the topic was raised.

And then the band came in. Cas caught his eye briefly as the overture started up, in that clunky sort of way that school bands tended too. They weren’t bad though. Turned out that Cas had been in the school band himself – on the clarinet of all things, and he’d only just gotten around to admitting the fact when Emma had started complaining about the band supporting her in the play. Dean hadn’t stopped teasing him for weeks.

As Cas looked over, Dean knew he was keeping in mind all of his previous arguments about what a perfectly respectable jazz instrument the clarinet could be and it was all he could do to stop himself from laughing as they raised the curtain.

He didn’t even notice how weird he was feeling, how hot and closeted the room felt as he looked up and saw his daughter standing alone on stage – he was clutching onto his seat far too determinedly for that. Because she was scared – he could see that. It was only a brief moment flashing over her face as she looked out at the faceless crowd – she just looked so fucking _young,_ and Dean could pick up her apprehensive scent even seated half-way back…

But then she started to sing. And, sure, the first couple of lines were a little ropey, but _Christ_ he had a kid who could sing. Like _really_ sing.

“Try not to burst, Dad,” Meg leaned over Cas to mutter at him, before he shushed her, keeping his eyes firmly on the stage. This was Emma’s big solo, and he wasn’t going to miss a moment of it. Though he did let himself look down for a second as he felt the gentle pressure of Cas’ cool hand laying over his own.

Seriously – how had they come up with a pup that could sing?

After Emma finished singing her little heart out and things started kicking into action, Dean allowed himself to relax a little. She had this. The audience loved her, she’d warmed up into her voice, and she was getting more confident in delivering all those lines they’d spent so many agonising hours practising with her at home. Everything was gonna start working out now. Dean might even be able to start enjoying himself soon, even if _Wicked_ had been the better show to come out of the franchise.

But it was starting to get damn hard to even concentrate on the stage. He was starting to feel almost feverishly hot – and he was pretty sure now, judging from his family seated all around him, Sam still in three layers, that no one else was feeling the same level of discomfort. Right. Awesome. At least it was only another forty minutes or so till the interval – he could make it to there before throwing up in the bathroom or whatever it was he needed to do. Talk about timing. Not that he really _felt_ like throwing up – he just kinda felt… off.

It was only when Cas’ hand tightened on his own and forced Dean to meet his eyes, bright with alarm, that he got what he probably should have worked out an hour ago. He was going into what was probably his last ever heat. At his daughter’s school play. Surrounded by people.

He’d never had any luck.

Fuck everything.

Cas started stroking his arms soothingly and leaned in awkwardly, his stubble brushing against Dean’s chin - and _dammit_ he still smelt so _good -_ to ask him if he was going to be alright.

“I’ll be fine, Cas,” Dean told him hoarsely, louder than he meant to. He still couldn’t believe that it’s been so long since he’d had a heat that he honestly hadn’t _noticed_ this coming on… It was goddamn ridiculous was what it was, and extremely embarrassing, at his age. This was the sort of thing that was supposed to catch a teenager out not… well. Menopausal omegas.

And people around them were starting to notice now. Davey, the teenage alpha, had to pretend his hardest that he hadn’t noticed anything as he edged as far away from Dean as he was able to on his seat, while Meg wrinkled her nose in confusion at the unfamiliar scent, and looked around them to try and understand where it was coming from – while Sam, a couple of seats down, had leaned forward already in outright panic and stared at Dean like he was worried he was going to explode.

Dean rolled his eyes at him, pointedly, like the fault wasn’t on him for failing to notice this in the first place, and tried to ignore the shifting of the strangers in front of him. He’d be alright – just like he’d told Cas – his _mate,_ that he wanted to tear the fucking clothes off of already… Yeah. Just so long as he could make it to the interval, and then… Hell, he couldn’t really embarrass Emma and everyone by coming back in here. He’d have to run home. The others’d just have to get a taxi, and he’d drive the car… somewhere, and he’d… deal.

And somehow, he’d find a way to explain to his kid why he had to miss the second act of her big night.

Dean balled both hands into fists, the nails nipping sharply into his palms keeping him alert. He could do this, he could do this, he could do this…

“I’m going to ask the wizard to make me brave!”

Dammit, he really couldn’t do this.

If it hadn’t been for Cas he would’ve gotten up to run right there and then, but Cas kept his hand firmly pressed down on his own, and at Dean’s increasingly ragged breathing, started to make soothing circles on Dean’s skin with his thumb. And through all the smells of the crowd around him, that unique scent of _mate_ and _alpha_ and _home_ found their way through to Dean, and he started to breathe a little easier, for a little bit longer.

The moment the interval curtain came down Dean was rushing past everyone, suppressing the urge to leap over seats as he ignored his family and went into focus mode on making it outside into the fresh air, away from here, away from all the people he’d embarrassed himself in front of… basically crawling his way out like an old cat running off to die. Because he could feel the people staring at him as he pushed past – like something that didn’t even have a right to be alive, never mind out in public – and he saw a whole load of both sympathy and disgust as everyone in the lobby parted for him like he was Moses.

He was out of breath by the time he made it outside. Slowing his run as he rounded into the car park, he decided to give himself just a few moments to recover himself against the wall before getting in the Impala. He was pretty sure he was still alright to drive. Hell, hadn’t he done it once before? But that had back when he and Cas had still barely known each other – back when Cas had been there in the car next to him. Back when Cas could still barely control himself around him – he’d been too caught up in too many self-esteem issues to most of it back then, but Dean had definitely had the looks. Now - well. He’d grown a bit of a noticeable little belly. Two kids and a lifelong addiction to fast food tended to do that to you eventually. There were wrinkles he’d started noticing that some days seemed carved into his face; stretch-lines on his thighs, his ass. And so here he was, set to try and get through his last heat alone in his car.

And he was _not_ crying, he was just a little tired out from the exercise, and needing something to fuck him already, even if all he had were his fingers.

Taking steps that felt achingly slow, Dean started moving off the wall towards his car. Almost there now…

“Dean.”

Cas didn’t shout his name, he just sorta called it out in the same way he always had – softly, but with a weight to it like that was all he needed to say, like that was all that ever needed to be said. Just Dean’s name.

Man, was he in a sappy mood. Had to be the hormones, Dean thought to himself as he wiped the sweat off his brow and turned around.

“Tell Em I’m sorry, alright? At least Meg’ll enjoy herself, she always wants to take a cab everywhere.” Dean smiled and walked over to his Baby, patting at the hood, grateful to have something to lean on again. “Kids’re always ungrateful these days,” he murmured.

He heard Cas sigh heavily behind him. “ _Dean.”_

 _“What?_ I’ll meet you back at the house, alright, with whatever fucking ridiculous opening night gift that Gabe’ll have sent around for her, and- _”_

“No, not ok,” Cas growled as he closed the space between them and backed Dean into his car. It was… weird, sure, but it was more pure _alpha_ than Dean had seen from his mate in years, and it was a little intimidating. And, yeah, he’d be lying if he tried to say that he didn’t love it.

Hands close to shaking, Cas raked a hand tenderly back through Dean’s hair, holding his gaze the whole time, those bright eyes of his shining bright from the streetlamps.

“When are you going to learn that you’re not in this alone?”

Dean blinked a couple of times. “Cas, I-”

“I’m sure you can’t have forgotten the far simpler, and, I suspect, quicker way of getting you through a heat…”

Dean struggled again to regain his words, his thoughts, as his mate started stroking down the buttons on his shirt. “Yeah, but Cas, _Emma,_ the _show._ We can’t _both_ leave…”

“And we won’t. The interval lasts for another fifteen minutes I believe.”

“Yeah, and-”

Cas’ eyebrows quirked up in wide-eyed amusement. “I’m going to assume that now you’re just trying to challenge me, Dean,” he murmured as he pulled Dean’s hips up to meet his and Dean had to try not to moan.

And then the fucker just _stared_ at Dean, the way he had to know always drove him mad, a question lingering there.

“Car. Now,” Dean croaked.

*

Cas lingered longer than he knew he probably should over undressing his mate. They were very obviously on a time limit, and they could have managed fine with only pulling Dean’s jeans down a little – but they didn’t always get the chance to spend much time alone together.

And tonight, Cas needed to make sure Dean felt good.

His mate wasn’t always the best at hiding how he felt, not from him, at least, and Cas knew that Dean had been worried about his last heat coming for weeks now. There were a lot of things running through Dean’s head, Cas expected – regret, perhaps, that they hadn’t tried for more pups; the fear of growing older; the fear of feeling that he lacked a purpose. Perhaps even the fear that Cas would leave him. And Cas had tried, really tried, to get Dean to open up about what he was thinking, what he was going through, to let him be there for him and _help_ – but of course Dean, as Cas should’ve expected, hadn’t said a word.

And so now even if Dean wouldn’t let him tell him everything he meant to him, then Cas was going to have to _show_ him.

They hadn’t had to use the car for sex in years – probably not since their honeymoon – but Dean still seemed to remember how they’d used to manage it, and had already knelt down in the backseat, his ass, gleaming in the low light with slick, up in the air, with one hand gripping the front seat to keep himself balanced.

“C’mon, Cas,” he said, looking over his shoulder with a shaky smile, as Cas continued to stare at him. “What if someone walks by and sees the old people going at it like animals in the school car park?”

Cas smiled softly to himself as he squeezed in behind Dean and closed the car door. “Oh, we’re not old yet. But I know that when we are you’ll still look beautiful to me. And,” he paused to inhale rather theatrically, “you’ll always still smell the same to me.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that like?”

Cas arched his back to bend over and breathe softly on Dean’s thighs. “Intoxicating, of course.” And, purely because he wanted to, he started to plant kisses all the way up Dean’s thighs, as he began stroking a hand up between them.

“C-Cas, _dammit_ we need to move already, and-” Dean’s voice was lost to a series of gargled whines Cas started moving his mouth, and his tongue, up between Dean’s cheeks.

“Sorry, Dean, I didn’t catch that,” Cas, said, fighting to keep his face straight as he replaced his tongue with his fingers, and deftly began moving them inside of Dean, pleased to see the little jolts running through his mate as he did so.

“… _Asshole_ ,” Dean muttered, as Cas watched his fingernails grip deep into the leather. Then Cas slowly shifted himself to sit down normally on the seat without breaking his rhythm, and used his other hand to fondle at Dean’s balls, trailing upwards to his more sensitive head, where pre-come had already begun to leak. “You’re so beautiful like this, Dean,” he murmured, honestly, as he set the rhythms of both his hands in better synchronicity, so that he felt something like a puppeteer as Dean’s back began to arch and fall with his movements.

“Please Cas,” Dean groaned. “Need you in me already, alright?”

Cas smiled as he feverishly managed to get his belt buckle undone, then ran a hand up through his mate’s hair as he awkwardly moved his way on top of them, and Dean bent down lean on his elbows. They were, perhaps, getting a little too old for this, Cas thought ruefully to himself as he heard something click in his knee.

But it was still worth it, listening to those ragged little breaths Dean made as Cas pressed his way inside him. “You feel incredible, Dean,” he whispered into his ear, “and I know you always will.”

“Even… even if I start looking like a wrinkled old corpse?”

“Even then,” Cas answered gravely, as he desperately tried not to let his foot slip from where it was positioned, just managing to keep him standing. “Because I’ll still be there beside you looking like an even more decayed corpse.”

In the end, they were laughing when they came together.

*

“You guys are late,” Meg hissed at them as they climbed back over different bags and pairs of feet towards their seat.

“We are not,” Dean protested, feeling like he couldn’t care less if everyone was staring at them. “Band’s just starting up, we can’t be late. And why do you have two ice-creams?”

“Auntie Ruby said I could.”

Dean glared past Sam and Davey down the row, where Ruby leaned forwards and shrugged at him. When Dean sat down he found that Sam had swapped places with his, no doubt horrifyingly embarrassed son. “You uh… you alright now?” Sam ventured as the lights went down.

“We’re not talking about it,” Dean said firmly.

“No, no we’re not, but, uh. You might wanna clean your hair a little.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Dean asked, louder than he’d intended as Cas turned to look at him with an apologetic grin. “I think I might have earlier… uh…” Cas put his hand up and wiped at Dean’s head. “Gone now.”

“ _What.”_

“Well I did have my hand down your pants at your hair,” Cas explained, clearly trying hard not to laugh. “And it seems that some of your slick was coated into your hair.”

“Aw _C’mon_ ,” Dean exclaimed, as the curtain was raised again, and his daughter stepped out on stage. He knew from the way her eyes were narrowing that she had definitely heard him.

*


End file.
